The Poetical Works of Robert Montgomery :: :: University of Virginia Library

There was a time, when earth appear'd
From each cold mist of sorrow clear'd,
A landscape clothed with calm and grace,
Whose flowers conceal'd the serpent's trace.

Then Nature seem'd a fairy world
Where beauty all its wings unfurl'd,
Till soil, and sea, and sun, and sky
Entranced me with their poetry.

Brightness and bloom o'er objects threw
The witchery of that wond'rous hue,
Which makes the very ground to glow
With gladness beaming hearts bestow.

And as with Nature, so with life,—
It seem'd with radiant magic rife,
Where hearts, and homes, and friends, and smiles,
Around me group'd their dearest wiles.

I did not hear the booming knell,
Nor let the tomb its wisdom tell;
Sickness and sorrow, change and grief,
Appear'd too dark for my belief.

And when from Heaven's most awful book
My blinded heart some utt'rance took,
The God I worshipp'd was my own,
Without a sceptre, law, or throne!

And thus, Religion's peerless claim
A sentimental lie became:
It touch'd the fancy—but the heart
From ruling grace beat all apart.

Till He, who bowed the heavens in love,
Beheld me from His shrine above,
And so my sensual trance awoke,
With legal Sinai's lightning-stroke.

Then, dread conviction through me burst,
And I sank down, accurst! accurst!
No more I lived, but seem'd to die
Like those who dare their God defy.

Both heart and brain with horror felt
Vengeance divine my being melt:
The pleasure loved, grew loathsome now,
And stamp'd, like Cain's, my branded brow.

Creation's glories ceased to shine
Upon a heart depress'd as mine;
And round her fairest landscape stole
The blight and blackness of my soul.

Where'er I went, whate'er I saw,
The haunting curse of holy law
Came like my shadow;—dread and deep
It quiver'd o'er my harrow'd sleep.

Matter and mind, and time and space,
Sun, air, and sea, with heaven's bright face,
Whate'er I saw, or felt, or heard,
Echoed The Law's condemning word.

“Oh wretched man!” (thus breathed my groan)
“The body of this death to own;
As though the corpse from out its grave
Were fasten'd to some living slave,

I bear without, and drag within
The clinging weight of woful sin!—
Who can deliver, and my soul
Rescue from this abhorr'd control?”

My virtues, now, to vices turn'd,
As more enlighten'd reason learn'd
The pureness of that perfect Law,
Which sees what Conscience never saw.

Eager with light from God's own eye
It can the shades of sin descry:
Nor could one pulse of feeling play
That throbs not in its searching ray.

And thus, gay sinner! down to dust
Be all thy tow'ring virtues thrust;
The law of God is legal death
By guilt inhaled at every breath.

Go, cultivate a grief divine;
A noble wretchedness be thine;
A heaven-born pang, like Paul's profound,—
The bleeding of the spirit's wound.

Nor fancy, as we Godward rise
And grace soars nearer to the skies,
Our sainted calm will deeper grow,
As if we found true heaven below.

Insatiate conscience, strong and stern
Will evermore this wisdom learn,
That our perfection is to prove
Imperfect reigns man's purest love.

Oh! bless we God, for gracious tears,
For sunken hopes, and shadowy fears;
Those Hearts are not for glory meant
Who feel no glorious discontent:

Enough for souls this truth to gain,—
In Christ alone we live and reign;
And all who would perfection find
Must seek it in the Saviour's mind.